


Bridle All This Indiscretion

by DarkmoonBoar



Series: Tumblr Bloodborne Drabbles [3]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Beast transformation weirdness, Beasty dick, Fucking With Canon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male Solo, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, More gross than sexy, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Partial beast transformation, discomfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:57:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonBoar/pseuds/DarkmoonBoar
Summary: As the full moon nears, Vileblood Adrian begins to experience strange changes with regards to his body... not to mention the increase of his libido.





	Bridle All This Indiscretion

**Author's Note:**

> Taken from my RP blog on tumblr/originally a Sinday/Sexual Sunday drabble

Draping his spidery arms over the edge of the cramped metal basin, the exhausted and sweaty Vileblood leaned back in the steaming hot, soap water with his slender legs splayed out awkwardly. Even before his blood ministration, he struggled to find things in his size, such as this tub, and the situation only became worse after. Though its inadequate volume restricted his ability to truly relax, he found it better than nothing. Better to be painful and sore from contorting his body than unwashed. With his head drooping over the opposite edge from his legs, Adrian simply laid there for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, and sighed. His immaculately painted and manicured fingernails, painted a deep oxblood, stood out in contrast to the ugly near-rust red splatters of sticky blood across his distinctly featured face.

After letting some of the tension in his body from tonight’s struggles leave his body, he sat up. Releasing his hair from the elegant black ribbon first, he dropped it to the side where his dirtied nobleman’s clothes lay folded but sullied. He’d have to wash and hang them in the morning. Inhaling sharply in preparation, he maneuvered until he could sink down into the tub to submerge his head, basically curling up in a fetal position in order to do so. Immediately, the water began to turn colors as it hit is hair, artistic swirls of delicate reds, browns, pinks, and oranges from the sanguine that had soaked his carefully groomed curls. Once he felt it all dampened, he gave it a good thorough scrub before rising out of the no longer crystal clear water with a gasp. Pale but healthily pink skin had turned a deeper, redder hue. His hairless chest heaved, and the water dripped stridently from his wavy hair into the water, sometimes traveling down his face but always ending up in the tub.

The hunter looked down at his body, from his large feet with toenails painted to match his fingernails, to his shaven legs… skipping over his submerged pelvis to his taut abdomen. His physical transformation still amazed him; once, he had been unattractively thin and frail, an ugly duckling with large glasses and a face much too chiseled and childlike to be desirable. And now… now he was _beautiful_ , a subject of envy as much as attraction. He knew it from the way hunters eyed him, especially the Executioners, those vicious dogs, as they every once in a while froze in an abhorrent mix of fear and awe as he gouged them with his rapier and tore out their necks.

Lately, though, he found his body slightly disconcerting, his loathsome body and facial hair changing in texture and thickness; once silky, sparse, and thin, they now grew in coarse, dense, and thick. It did mean that he found his beard shadow came in even darker than before. Still easy to shave it all off, but irritating nonetheless. At least it hadn’t regrown any faster yet. Unfortunately, his looks cursed him as much as blessed him; if he actually let his facial hair grow out, he would look the splitting image of his dead father. And save tearing off his skin, his own visage would always be a reminder of the past he desperately sought to escape.

( _why must you haunt me why must you haunt me why must you haunt me_ )

Those weren’t the only changes, either.

Although not directly his body, not exactly, lately, Adrian felt incredibly and strangely restless, and not just due to missing his sister. Although he mostly dueled with other hunters for dregs and blood, now more than ever did he seek out brawls with them. Usually, he preferred to skewer them with the Reiterpallasch after a skillful parry with his Evelyn, but it just felt more _satisfying_ to reach out and savage them with his bare hands and fangs, to feel their flesh scored and defiled the minute it happened. He did it not just for his increasing need for more blood, draining bodies dry and filling himself until his stomach became distended; the Vileblood experienced the pressing need for violence, for absolute _domination_ over _his_ dominion.

( _make me whole make me free my Queen my Mother_ )

It pressed up against his skull, even as he thought about it, just waiting to be unleashed on the world like a lethal plague. For the most part, it slumbered, waking only at night, particularly when he needed to feed, when the impure hunter would leave to feed. It beckoned him to feed more, drain them dry, even when sated, as if in preparation for a disaster.

That disturbed him far less than the distasteful, irritating, and sharp increase in his libido. And he found it to be excessive and intolerable to begin with.

Coming out of his thoughts, he gritted his teeth as he clutched the sides of the basin and gingerly began to stand in order to wash his body. The former doctor reached over and grabbed a bar of soap and a thick washrag. Sighing, he lathered up the soap on the cloth, starting with his face first, and went downwards from there.

As he lifted his right arm to clean his armpit, the thoroughly musky and overwhelming scent of his own sweat (which he hadn’t been made conscious of, until now) assaulted his nostrils. Adrian couldn’t help but grimace at how overpowering it had become. True, scuffles in the street tended to make him perspire, and he wore thick and layered clothing, but it never left him that pungent. Even so, he couldn’t ignore he felt drawn to his own odor, admittedly drawing in deep breaths through his nose. It awakened something deep within him, more than just the obnoxious stirring of his own loins over how **_fantastic_** it smelled, thoroughly masculine and almost bestial.

Frowning deeply over his own arousal, over _himself_ , the lanky man continued to wash his body, soaping up both his arms and armpits before moving onto his chest. Admittedly, while the combination of his activity and the Old Blood shaped his long body into something lithe and graceful, his pectorals weren’t quite as nicely carved out and looked strange when paired with the muscles around it. Between the cool air on his skin and the coarse texture of the cloth as it dragged over his rosy nipples, he found himself shivering and softly whimpering.

For a moment, he stilled his hand and tried to contain himself as his concupiscence flared up again like the flames of his hearth. After he felt it simmer down, the Vileblood continued to travel down his body with the rag. It roamed down and over his ribs and slid over his hip bones. As he closed his eyes to avoid looking at his own genitals, he skipped over his pubic region to clean his thighs and calves. It became a lesson in futility to refuse to acknowledge the building pressure and the rush of blood and sensation to his crotch as he continued washing himself. Deft hands reached around with the rough and small towel to cleanse between the crease of his buttocks.

And, of course, to his chagrin, doing so helped _nothing_ with his “problem,” sending sparks of pleasure up his spine and making his skin crawl with bliss and disgust. After he soaped the rest of his body, he cautiously sat back down in the tub as his cheeks burned more than just with the heat of the water. His nails scratched at the metal surface of the basin as he desperately sought to ground himself despite his rising lust, his rising _shame_.

Such things made him feel like an animal. If he didn’t attend to it, though, he would be up all night, sweating and groaning and squeezing his thighs together as he tossed and turned in hopes that his sexual need would simply disappear. Then, once asleep in his too thin and comically short nightgown, he would have wanton dreams that would leave him sticky and moaning.

Eventually, the Vileblood let out a defeated sign and tentatively reached between his legs in the bloody water to relieve the annoyance. He wrapped his hand around the base of his length, immediately noticing how thicker it felt in his hands. Not only that, but it _definitely_ felt like it had changed it shape as his palm and fingers felt out gentle twists. He certainly didn’t remember it looking spiral-like when flaccid earlier when he had stripped of all his clothing.

With a gulp, he looked down at the reddened water.

Though it didn’t exactly look normal, his erection, at least, appeared less terrifying than he initially imagined. It _definitely_ had also grown longer as well; as he angled it upwards, he realized it now reached past his navel, and he hadn’t exactly been lacking in size to begin with. Still, the slight alteration in shape concerned him even if it caused him no physical pain. Additionally, it now had a slight taper to, from the thick base until it tapered closer to his original girth at the thankfully quite normal tip. Morbid curiosity overtook him, and thus with a cringe he gave it a quick upward stroke.

From that alone, the Vileblood trembled. The increase in size and change in its form also resulted in heightened sensitivity; he could barely brush over the reddened, weeping head without thrashing in the tub and spilling water on the cold wooden floor. Adrian took a deep breath, and began stroking it as he normally would. Keeping his body still proved a difficult task; even just pumping his fist up and down had his body jolting with the intense pleasure it created that bordered on pain. But he had to keep going, lest he end up tormented all night.

Rather than draw it out, his pace became frantic, as the hunter just wanted it over with. He didn’t want to stoke the fire, he wanted to smother it.

As he slid a hand down the head again, he noticed the strange viscosity of his preliminary fluids. The clear, tacky liquid stuck to his finger tips, then created a gooey, thick, slime-like web when they parted, far denser than normal. Despite his revulsion, he brought it to his curled lips and licked it at his fingers.

It tasted normal, almost tasteless save for a slightly bitter and salty aftertaste but it undeniably smelled heavily of sex.

Resuming a furious and hateful pace, Adrian splashed water as he reclined enough for his back to hit the edge of the basin. He closed his eyes, more so to more faithfully remember the taste of iron on his lips, the scent of scared prey, the sensation of pumping arteries and veins squirting into his mouth, life leaving the prey’s body as he drained it. Loudly and richly, he moaned, arching his back up slightly as his hand rubbed down his infernal hard-on. His fist clapped down hard on and through the water, and anyone in the small and drafty apartment would be able to hear his task.

His mind drifted to places he hadn’t considered before. What if he fed with another man? If what Antares said was true, Adrian wasn’t alone. Surely, he could find a male Vileblood to accompany him on his hunt for blood. They could share their victims together. And how glorious it would be to taste blood on his lips, in his mouth, and rove his hands over this theoretical hunter’s body. Get him on his knees, tug down his trousers and small clothes, and use what blood they didn’t need to take him. Rake his nails down the man’s back. Maybe even sink his teeth into his neck, not to drink from but just to serve as a reminder that he, Adrian, was in charge.

The almost unheard of though, for him at least, had him curl his toes. He could feel his release mercifully come closer as it would up in his groin. No doubt, after spending himself, the fantasy would evaporate, and he would be left again despising the thought of touching someone sexually, even if he found them quite attractive. It concerned him none, and he continued with his task, just fast and brutal enough his thighs quaked but gentle enough that nothing would tear. Chafing would likely happen, but he thought that a better fate than his corrupt seed soiling his night clothes and leaving him a mess.

Not long after he felt the tightening of his muscles, the muscle and tissue within his cock began to spasm. Despite how quickly he achieved it, the orgasm rippled through him intensely; he grabbed at the sides of the tub with his other hand and kept stroking as he rode it out. But a few seconds of ejaculation turned into half a minute, and then half a minute of trickling sperm became a few minutes of dry orgasm.

It was agonizing. He never thought it would end, taking his hand off his rod and holding onto the lip of the basin for dear life. Panic overtook him, and he began to mewl as the contractions of muscles deep inside his pelvis continued going on despite the fact nothing came out. The now chilled water felt like acid on his skin, every slight breeze in the house feeling like it peeled and tore. Both of his nipples hardened into hypersensitive nubs that everything that brushed up against had him reeling with rapture and torment. His testicles stayed high and clenched tight against his body, as if in hopes he still had tainted spend to spill.

Adrian was losing his mind.

He pulled at his own hair, convulsing against the tub with his eyes rolled back, clinging to the idea that this would end, that this wouldn’t _kill_ him. Against all odds, he swore he felt it in his teeth, through his entire body, radiating outwards. It blurred the lines between ecstasy and agony, the self and the world, and it was too much. Far too much. All because he wanted to ease the uncomfortable and unpleasant pressure between his legs.

Eventually, he found that it began to tear increasingly strident and terrified screams, no, _squeals_ from his throat unbidden. He felt his fangs grow longer, and his other canines that weren’t quite fangs followed suit, becoming sharper as well. Not without pain, of course; his gums and jaw ached as the teeth forced themselves into new shapes and sizes. Four of them even began to curl outwards of his lips.

After what felt like at least half an hour, his continuous orgasm ceased quietly. As soon as it finished, he flopped hard against the basin, breathing heavy and frantically. _Everything_ felt wrung out of him, and he barely had the energy to lift his head. All four of his limbs felt incredibly heavy, and an amazing sense of warmth and satisfaction crept from his belly outwards. If not for the discomfort, the hunter could fall asleep, right then and there, in the tub, less filled than when he had started. Water had been splashed all over the floor, dampening his discarded clothing and even reaching the towel.

Well, at least it hadn’t touched his nightgown.

Pulling himself up with considerable effort and in spite of the weight on his half-lidded eyes, Adrian wobbly stood up, nearly falling over in the process like he had just injected himself with a blood vial. He would throw the dirty, soapy water out into the streets later. His heavily pruned fingers went for the moistened towel, and used the small parts of it still dry to soak up the beads of water on his flushed body. Though the Vileblood’s body still had some water on it, he slipped into his pajamas and gently wrung out his hair.

His tongue searched in his mouth, and found his teeth back to normal, only having two fangs on his top row of teeth instead of four on his top row and four on his bottom row. Moving it around, he also tongued along wounds on his lips, probably from biting his lips hard without even realizing it.

He shuffled from the tiny room dedicated to bathing and such and into the rest of the confined apartment. Now the _entire_ place reeked of sex. It had him curling his lip as he collapsed onto the couch. Already, he could tell in the morning he would need to cut into his blood vial supply in order to feed; he was starving. He wriggled for a bit until he got comfortable on his side and had a pillow under his head. Closing his sable eyes, the hunter drifted into a deep slumber from which he did not wake until nearly mid morning.


End file.
